


Lay It All on the Table

by lulu-writes (luluwrites)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underswap, Established Friendship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers but One of Them Already Thought They Were Basically Dating, M/M, Oblivious Reader, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luluwrites/pseuds/lulu-writes
Summary: As hilarious as Papyrus had said it would be, you're starting to realize that Sansmighthave been hitting on you just as much as you'd been hitting on him. All under the guise of friendship. Feeding each other food? Holding each other's hands? Embracing tenderly? That's... That's all platonic, right? You'redefinitelynot flirting.





	Lay It All on the Table

It’s the fourth time this week that Sans has invited you over to eat, and it’s the fourth time you’ve accepted. You’d been out of town for a week for business that was far too boring to even explain to him, and it was obvious that your best friend had really missed you. _Really_  missed you. There was rarely a moment that he wasn’t shooting you a text, or sending you a meme, or forwarding a cute dog he’d seen on his morning jog to you through Snapchat. 

All you’d eaten were corporate business meals for seven days, and, as much as you wouldn’t admit it to Sans’ face (lest he hold you hostage for more meals), you were really appreciating all of the home-cooking. 

He greets you at the door with a warm hug, wearing a flannel and jeans, his eyes already spun into stars. “I’M SO GLAD YOU COULD MAKE IT!” And, even though he’s about a hand shorter than you, he picks you up off of the ground and spins you. When he sets you down, you’re inside of the house, and he’s standing on the outside, his hands on his hips. “COME ON IN- PAPYRUS WAS JUST FINISHING SETTING THE TABLE!” 

Papyrus gives you a half-wave and you notice that the dinner table is only set for two people, seated next to each other. “heya.” 

Behind you, Sans steps in and closes the door behind you two, and his arm wraps around your waist, guiding you in. You both have always been touchy friends, and you lean into his grip. He clears his throat, and you turn to him, using one hand to brace yourself. His eye lights flicker down to your touch, then up to you, and he tilts his head ‘no’ to you- he wasn’t clearing his throat at you. “PAPYRUS…” 

“oh shoot- right. sorry, bro.” Then Papyrus locks his phalanges together and very obviously reads from a script he’d penned on the insides of his palms, squinting. “i’m very sorry i can’t stay for dinner- i have important business at the royal… slab.”

“PAPYRUS!” 

“well, uh. you heard me! looks like… it’ll just be the two of you… alone…” Papyrus chuckles and _very obviously_  makes direct eye contact with you. “as much fun it is to see you two stumble over flirting with one another, it looks like someone wants to _meat_  me at the _slab.”_

Sans takes one hand to pinch at the bone between his eye sockets. He sighs, and very obviously counts backwards from ten, then tries again. “THANK YOU, SWEET YOUNGER BROTHER OF MINE, FOR YOUR TACT. IT APPEARS, HUMAN, THAT WE’LL BE DINING ALONE TONIGHT.” Man, who’d written these lines? It’s obvious that Papyrus had went off-script, but Sans is obviously committed. 

“Yeah? I don’t mind.” You rest your hand over his gloved hand on your waist. “Should I have, um, prepared more for this?” You feel like you’re missing out on something- were you supposed to have also gotten a script?

“welp. i’ll be, uh, headed to the… out. i’m heading out. see ya around.” The second he rounds the corner, Papyrus disappears, taking a shortcut outside instead of being sensible and using the front door. 

Which leaves you being half-held by Sans in the entryway to the dining room. “Hey, Sans, what was all of that about?” You turn in his embrace so that you’re holding his hand and facing him, instead of being flush against his side. “Are you two pulling a prank?” 

“I… WELL, NO, OF COURSE NOT.” His eye lights mellow back into their bright blue disks, and they’re pointedly looking away from you. A light blue blush rises on his cheeks and, after a moment, he looks back at you, his smile somewhat lopsided. Bashful. “ALRIGHT, I’LL BE HONEST… I JUST WANTED TO HAVE A DINNER ALONE WITH YOU. BUT I WANTED IT TO FEEL ORGANIC! SO I MIGHT’VE WRITTEN A SCRIPT… CAN YOU TELL THAT I WAS SHORT ON TIME?” 

“A little bit.” You run your thumb over the back of his hand, feeling the familiar indentions of his bones just underneath his glove. “You know, if you wanted to eat alone with me, you could’ve just asked. Papyrus is your brother and he’s also my friend, but we can hang out by ourselves sometimes.” 

“YEAH? I’LL… I’LL KEEP THAT IN MIND, FOR NEXT TIME.” Seeming to remember why you were over here in the first place, Sans snaps to attention, pulling you by your one hand gently to the table, then pulling a chair out. “HERE YOU GO! I’LL BRING OUT THE PASTA IN ONE SECOND.” It’s so obvious that he’s expanding his repertoire of food (from easy-to-make food like tacos with instant seasoning to, now, pasta) that it makes you a little proud.

Though, as he heaps fettuccine al burro onto your plate, you get the distinct sense that this was not like the other dinners you’d shared with Papyrus previously during the week. “So, how’s your day been? Done anything special without me?” You try for earnest conversation, in the wake of his obviously excited mood. 

Sans really wore his heart on his sleeve- with his eyes back to stars, it was very obvious that he was very proud of this dish. 

“OH, I DIDN’T DO MUCH.” After doling out his portion (with extra mushrooms on his, the sly skeleton), he sits in the chair right beside you. He gives you that same tilted, boyish smile and your heart gives an uneven thump. “I SPENT A LOT OF IT WAITING TO SEE YOU. I DID… A LOT OF PLANNING.” 

To keep yourself from saying something dumb about how the flannel he was wearing really hugged him well or how the pasta really did taste _fantastic,_  you stuff another bite into your mouth to give yourself more time to think. You chew thoughtfully, then swallow. “I’ll admit, I was really looking forward to this, too. You always cheer me up, Sans, and you can really taste the love in your food!”

Sans accidentally scrapes the bottom of his plate, _hard_ , staring at you in a panic. “REALLY? CAN HUMANS TASTE LOVE?” These conversations weren’t wholly uncommon- you’d use some human turn-of-phrase that went right over a monster’s head and have to explain it in thorough detail. 

But this one… wasn’t so metaphorical. “Yeah, we can.” Teasing him, you reach over and pop his shirt’s collar up. “That’s why I could bear to eat all of your meatloaf messes. The love made up for the fact that it was drier than actual sand.” 

He doesn’t move for a while, his fork at an awkward angle, his eyes on you. You watch, a little flustered, as his eye lights become little hearts, and his smile goes easy and soft again. “THAT’S GOOD. THAT’S…” He turns his attention back to his plate, pushing around the pasta on his plate. He’s blushing a light blue and avoiding your eyes. “NOT THAT MY FOOD WAS TERRIBLE, BUT THAT YOU COULD TASTE ALL OF THE EFFORT AND… LOVE THAT WENT INTO EVERY DISH.” 

The both of you are quiet, then, silently eating your food and enjoying each other’s company. “Hey, Sans? I have to ask- does it really seem like we’re flirting all the time to Papyrus?” 

Sans seems to genuinely consider your question. “WELL, CERTAINLY WE FLIRT THE NORMAL AMOUNT THAT TWO PEOPLE WOULD, GIVEN HOW CLOSE WE ARE.” Each word seems incredibly measured, and he’s watching your facial expression. 

“We… aren’t flirting, though?” Not that you’ve noticed anyways- as handsome and as roguishly charming as Sans was… As much as you wouldn’t mind it… This was just how he was, right? 

His jaw opens and closes once, then he tries again. “I… ER. WE AREN’T FLIRTING, THEN!” Sans laughs, a little awkwardly, and twirls more pasta onto his fork, then he holds it up to you. “ABOUT HUMANS BEING ABLE TO TASTE LOVE… TRY A LITTLE OFF OF MY FORK.” 

“It’s all the same pasta, Sans.” But you still tilt your head forward, opening your mouth and letting him feed it to you. Surprisingly, it’s the perfect bite-size, and close your lips around the fork and pull the rest of the pasta off of it, finishing off the bite. Politely, you cover your mouth with one hand while you finish chewing. “You know what? I think the love on your plate distinctly tastes like mushrooms.” 

He laughs, a little too loud, then covers his mouth. “OH, SORRY! I’M A LITTLE NERVOUS, NOW. I WASN’T AWARE THAT HUMANS HAD SOME SORT OF EXTRA, EMOTION-DETECTING FLAVOR PALATE. IT’S AMAZING, BUT ALSO TERRIBLE! WHAT IF I MAKE A DISH WHEN I’M IN A BAD MOOD?” With crowning horror, he leans. “PLEASE TELL ME IT WOULDN’T POISON YOU. I’M NOT SURE IF MONSTERKIND IS READY FOR THIS KIND OF INFORMATION ABOUT HUMANS.” 

“No, no, it wouldn’t poison me- it’s just nice when someone cooks with a little bit of care. Presentation has something to do with it, too. Here.” You wrap up some of the pasta off of your plate, offering it to him with your other hand cradled underneath it to make sure no sauce got onto the nice tablecloth he’d put on the table. The hearts re-form in his eye lights, and he opens his mouth just a little, still making eye-contact with you. “Sans, there’s no way you could eat it like that…” Gently, you rest your free hand under his chin to open his mouth just a little more. 

You’re surprised that his entire jaw goes slack in your grasp, and it’s enough to get you to step back, mentally, and reassess the situation. You’re cradling Sans’ jaw, leaning over the corner of the table, feeding him fettuccine. That… That was friendly, right? Yeah, the hearts were probably just for the noodles- he’d really outdone himself this time… 

You tilt the bite into his mouth and, with his slack-jawed, heart-eyed stare, you still have to close his jaw for you. He seems to realize what’d just happened the second his teeth touch, and he quickly finishes chewing. “STARS, SORRY! THAT WAS IMPOLITE.” Sans seems to shake himself off, covering his mouth and looking away from you- his eye lights resettled into their default state. 

You have to laugh a little. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you so _starstruck_  around me, Sans.” Noticing that you’d gotten a little sauce on his cheekbone, you pick your napkin and dab it away, noticing that he’s beginning to flush again. 

“THANK YOU. UM.” Is he shaking a little? “HOO BOY, IS IT HOT IN HERE OR IS IT JUST YOU?” You raise an eyebrow. “I MEANT! JUST ME! UM… I’M GOING TO TURN ON THE CEILING FAN.” He leans up and pulls on the cord, and the ceiling fan starts whirring above you. Despite the fact that it’s going at full force, he’s still sweating. 

“Sans, really, is something wrong?” 

“NO, NOTHING’S WRONG! I’M JUST… GOING TO COLLECT THE DISHES. PLATONICALLY.” Okay…? Sans gets up and dusts off his hands on his pants, still bright blue in the face and sweating. “I’LL JUST BE DOING THEM IN THE KITCHEN- FEEL FREE TO SIT DOWN AND WAIT FOR ME IN THE LIVING ROOM!” 

Yeah, something’s definitely bothering him. You’re not gonna let it slide. When he tries to dodge around you into the kitchen, you follow him, hopping up onto the counter and sitting with him. “Saaaans…” 

He rolls up his sleeves and echoes your name in the same tone. “I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU’D WANT TO WATCH ME DO THE DISHES, BUT I GUESS I CAN’T STOP YOU!” 

“Sans, what’s bugging you? Really- your whole mood did a one-eighty. Did I say something? Do something?” He didn’t seem mad, but he certainly wasn’t as excited as he had been. You reach out and fix his collar from where you’d popped it before- had that been it? Were you being too touchy-feely?

Sans stays quiet for a long time, not answering you, which just turns your stomach even more. You scoot back on the counter, a little farther away from him- giving him some space but not too much space? Enough space that you were being considerate, but not enough that you were leaving him. He chuckles a little bit, putting the dish to dry, and you shoot him a nervous look. “SORRY… I’M JUST… I KNOW I SAID EARLIER THAT WE WEREN’T FLIRTING BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT WE WEREN’T FLIRTING BUT I HAVE VERY MUCH SO BEEN FLIRTING! AND I THOUGHT YOU WERE TOO!” He turns around, leaning backwards on the sink, his eyes wide and his face still flushed. He chuckles again, rubbing at the back of his neck. “YOU REALLY THREW ME! I’M, UH, JUST TRYING TO DIAL MY FEELINGS DOWN BACK INTO A PLATONIC ZONE, RIGHT NOW.” 

“Woah, hold on- you were flirting?” 

“HAVE BEEN, FOR ABOUT THE PAST YEAR, NOW.” 

“I mean, I didn’t _think_  I was flirting- I just thought you were handsy!” 

Sans gives you a surprisingly withering look. “ONE TIME I FED YOU RAISINETS FROM THE BOX INDIVIDUALLY. AND YOU LITERALLY KISSED MY HAND WHEN THE BOX WAS FINISHED. OUR… PERCEPTIONS OF THE OTHER’S TRUE FEELINGS APPEAR TO HAVE BEEN SWITCHED! YOU THOUGHT I WAS JUST BEING FRIENDLY, BUT I WAS…” He pushes himself up from the counter, and the somewhat wilted look on his face is quickly replaced with a smile, starting to head towards the living room. “WELL! IT DIDN’T MATTER WHAT I WAS BEING! I’M PERFECTLY CONTENT WITH STAYING YOUR BEST FRIEND, OF COURSE.” 

With a sinking feeling, you realize that you wouldn’t have minded all of those little touches being something vastly different from platonic. You just hadn’t considered that… that he would ever be interested in you in that way? Sure, you were touchy and you were good friends, but Sans had a _lot_  of friends. You might’ve considered him your best friend, but that didn’t mean he considered you _his_. “Sans, I might’ve been hitting on you a little.” He freezes, midstep, and turns on his heed, shooting you a confused look. “I mean, _listen_. You’re a really handsome monster, but you’re also my friend. So, uh. Sometimes. I’d hit on you a little bit. But I never thought it’d be reciprocated! Um. I was keeping it platonic.” 

“YOU WERE CRADLING MY JAW IN YOUR HANDS NOT TEN MINUTES AGO. WAS THAT PLATONIC?” He comes around the corner of the counter, closer to you. 

You stutter a little. “Somewhat.” You avoid his twinkling, teasing gaze. “Also, checking you out in that nice flannel? _Perhaps_  I was being a little less than friendly.” 

“I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE.” But, by the way his eyes are stars and his grin is _so_  warm (and, admittedly, a little smug), he totally noticed. His hands rest on your knees and, sitting on the counter, your height difference has never been so apparent. “SO. IN THE INTEREST OF KEEPING THINGS PLATONIC… WE SHOULDN’T KISS?” 

“We shouldn’t.” You agree, but he’s tilting his head up and you’re tilting downwards to meet him. You don’t notice when your eyes shutter closed, just that his warm gloves are cradling your face, and you’ve gently brushed a kiss against his teeth. You start to pull back, but he brings you back in, bumping into you and nuzzling at you. You don’t get breathless as you usually would with a kiss lasting this long (mostly because, if any actual kissing were to occur, you’d be the one putting in the full effort), but you still pull away a little frazzled. “Um… So, are we still best friends?” 

You’re joking, but Sans pulls away with the heartiest laugh you’ve ever heard come out of him. Joking back, he echoes your tone from earlier. “PERHAPS!” 

**Author's Note:**

> Request:“our friends/your bro says the only reason our hangouts are so amusing is because they enjoy watching our relentless flirting with each other but I swear to God we’re not flirting???” mind if i add a little twist? reader is hella oblivious to us!sans flirting since he’s a literal heartthrob and is naturally charming without trying to b? i thot it would be amusing to see him trying to get his mac daddy on and reader just. completely misses it
> 
> this one was super fun to write! i usually write my 'readers' to be a little more aware than this, but it was still cute to have the two of them fumbling around each other thinking the other has wildly different intentions when they both. could just ask. and see if the other liked them. 
> 
> anyways! as always, these requests are to practice my characterization for my other story, [bones, picked clean](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11692404/chapters/26323746)! you can always shoot one in at my [tumblr](www.squeletter.tumblr.com)! i have a tag under 'prompts' for this reason!


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